


oh, it's you again

by hateno



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Benrey uses they/them, Fluff, M/M, Plot, gordon as a virus au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hateno/pseuds/hateno
Summary: To quote my fiance: benrey and gordon have been in the same game several times and gordon doesnt ever remember them bc hes not aware of what he is and thats why benrey says they used to be best friends send tweetBasically an AU where both Benrey and Gordon are computer viruses and keep running into each other somehow, with only Benrey retaining memories of all of it.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Frenrey - Relationship
Comments: 18
Kudos: 91





	1. Anomalous Materials

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u to my proofreader Martin :) please enjoy

There is a click, followed by a hum.

Hallways fade into existence one by one, the countless lines of code running in tandem to create the environments needed for optimal experience. Everything grinds to a beginning, and all of it completely unseen; it is utterly behind-the-scenes in its nature.

Tommy wishes that it was just as undetectable to him as it is to most everyone else involved in this _venture_. When unnaturally yellow irises meet their surroundings, they are indeed the same off-white walls of the Black Mesa Research Facility as always. The colored stripes of paint on the wall that indicate the direction of key areas seem to mock him as he takes a deep breath and realizes that the game has started anew.

He doesn’t entirely remember when things started to be different for him— one day they simply were. There was a point at which he became aware that everything around him was an endless loop of a catastrophic disaster within the facility, and there was a following point at which the fact that precisely none of this was reality was made _very_ clear. Since then, life has been a cycle of routine, constantly waiting for something _interesting_ to happen. It’s become so cumbersome.

But that’s not going to stop Tommy from being optimistic! He gathers himself in yet another deep breath, and shakes his hands at his sides as a release of any negative energy he might be feeling. Today is a new day, a new test, a new player— and there isn’t a single reason he shouldn’t be excited. Doctor Bubby has expressed in the past how foolish it is to continue getting his hopes up, but Tommy knows better; his father always told him to look at everything as though it was a potential opportunity for growth. He’s pretty sure that’s business lingo because of his job, whatever that is, but it’s a nice sentiment nonetheless, he thinks!

Throughout the slow discovery of the reason for his existence and the subsequent ‘backstory elements’ he’d gained upon becoming sentient, Tommy has made a few friends. In fact, his first move in this new instance of today is to go and visit one of them. He makes great time to the locker room on his thin, gangly legs, and smiles in a sweet manner at the man he finds inside.

“Good morning, Dr. Coomer,” he chirps, adjusting the sleeves of his dress shirt a little.

Doctor Coomer perks up from his rather serious expression upon hearing Tommy’s greeting, and turns to wave at him. “Hello, Tommy! A fine morning indeed! Ready to observe yet another test?”

“Yeah, uh, yeah, I am! Today might be— it could be the day, yanno?” A hopeful expression crosses Tommy’s features, and he tents his fingers together, tapping the pads against each other lightly. He says this every time, and has been for years, but as they always say in Black Mesa: _another day, another dollar!_

“Positivity _is_ important, Tommy! It very well could be!”

The fact of the matter hangs around their small oasis of hope like a dark cloud— they have relived the Black Mesa Incident hundreds of times over a series of what appears to be an unending number of years. Nothing has ever changed. Gordon Freeman enters the facility, Gordon Freeman puts on his HEV suit, Gordon Freeman heads to the test chamber, Gordon Freeman unwittingly sets off the resonance cascade, Tommy and his friends mess around and wait until Gordon Freeman is taken by Tommy’s father.

Tommy often speculates various things about Gordon Freeman. Doctor Coomer has explained to him that Freeman is the player character, meant to be used to navigate the facility from the outside (wherever that is), but not to interact verbally with the staff or other characters. That’s all fine and dandy, but Tommy sometimes wishes Dr. Freeman could speak to them. Whenever he sees him, the protagonist seems to be in a near-trance, going about his tasks in a rather quick and purposeful fashion. It would be interesting to get his perspective on all of this, Tommy thinks. He’s probably miserable!

At risk of being repetitive, nothing _ever_ changes here. Doctor Coomer, Tommy, Doctor Bubby, and possibly some others further along in the series of events, are just background characters in a video game— one that has been played time and time again throughout the years without a single alteration in story, despite their best efforts to change things up.

This is why, when a guard steps clumsily into the locker room and actually _addresses_ the two of them, they both get thrown for a complete and utter loop.

“Oh _yoo_ , you guys— we talkin’ about science in here? Science and things?” The guard appears to take in a sharp breath before smacking their lips in a slightly obnoxious manner. Their eyes are a bright, piercing red that greatly contrasts the dull colors of the rest of their appearance, and their teeth appear to be filed to points. It reminds Tommy a bit of Dr. Bubby.

This is definitely not a normal start to test day at Black Mesa, Tommy thinks, and so he waves excitedly at the newcomer. “Good morning! I’m Tommy!”

“Hello, there! You can call me Dr. Coomer! Are you a new hire here at Black Mesa?” The older man wants to preserve the possible innocence of this new outlier— what if they aren’t aware that none of this is real? He opts to act as though this is business as usual, but how invigorating to see another _conscious_ entity around here!

“Huh? What— uhh. No, what? What are you talking about, this is— this is a video game.” It appears this guard isn’t showing the same level of regard for the understanding of the other two, but perhaps it’s a symptom of confusion about the situation.

Dr. Coomer clears his throat. “Ah! Well! Quick to learn, aren’t we? May we have your name, my fine gentleman?”

The guard doesn’t miss a beat, maintaining the same easy smile they’ve held on their features since entering the space. “Benrey,” they state simply.

Tommy stays with Benrey while Dr. Coomer goes to fetch Dr. Bubby, since they have a bit of time before Freeman arrives and the test is underway. On first impression, Benrey thinks that Tommy is cool, nice, and makes happy colors swell in their chest. They have a very strong feeling that they’ll be great friends. “So what’s this game called,” they ask, sitting themself on the tiled floor _next to_ the bench.

“ _This_ game? You’ve been in— you’ve seen other games before, Benrey?” Tommy mirrors the guard’s action, opting to take the obvious seat instead. He plays with his tie a bit.

“Uhh, yeah. I’m not normal— not a character or anything. Just wanna have fun and play _games_ , and stuff,” Benrey responds, not actually illuminating the truth in an adequate manner at all. It’s fine; they like being a bit of an enigma. They also like not caring what anyone thinks about them. “So what is it?”

“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t— it’s called _Half Life_ , it’s like a— a shooting game, I think? There’s aliens and _creatures_ that come in later!” Excited to share this information with someone _new_ for once, Tommy gesticulates happily as he speaks. “The main— the protagonist, Dr. Freeman, is gonna— he’s gonna show up soon and start the test.”

“Oh wow, sounds like a loser.” Benrey _loves_ games where they can directly mess with the player, and it seems as though this one is prime territory for doing so.

Tommy frowns. “He can’t talk to us, though… He just plays right through… It’s kind of— it’s really _boring_ here.” Feeling comfortable around them, he airs his true feelings to Benrey. “We’ve been waiting for something— something _different_ for, umm, years! So it’s really nice to meet you!”

“Now who in the fuck is _this._ ” A harsh, snappy tone breaks the two of them out of their conversation as Benrey looks straight up to see another scientist peering down at them.

“The newcomer, like I said, Dr. Bubby!” Coomer grins, gesturing towards Benrey in a friendly manner.

Dr. Bubby squints down at where Benrey is sitting on the floor and scoffs. “What’s with the _eyes_? Already fucking around with your character model?”

“Huh? Hi. Benrey,” is their quick greeting, followed by pushing themself off the floor with a hand and standing up to wave at Bubby with their fingers.

“Benrey, hmm. Clever.” Bubby rolls his eyes behind his thick lenses. “Just don’t fuck with anything right away, okay? We don’t want all _hell_ to break loose just because you’re having fun.” Behind him, Coomer chirps a comment about all hell breaking loose _anyway_.

“Okay, sure, got it. Don’t fuck it up. Easy. Done.” Benrey nods, expression still having stayed entirely static this whole time.

‘ _Incoming train from: Level. Three. Dormitories. To: Sector. C. Test Labs. And. Control Facilities,_ ’ the PA system drones in an even, robotic voice from the speakers above them.

“Well, gentleman, looks like that’s our cue! Time to head to our places!” Dr. Coomer announces cheerily, stepping back to his place by his locker and waving everyone else on.

Benrey watches as Bubby files out of the locker room while sighing, and looks to Tommy with what they hope conveys the question ‘where the fuck do I go’. “Huh? What? Uhh.”

“Oh, just!! Um, Benrey, you can go to the— the security door over next to the room Dr. Bubby starts in! There should be— there’s usually another guard there anyway!” Tommy offers, pointing them in the right direction once they’re out in the hall. “Dr. Freeman should just walk right on through, so— so don’t worry! See you around!” With that, he hurries back off to the break room.

Alone and in a completely foreign environment, Benrey just does as they’re told and heads over to the aforementioned door. It’s a bit strange standing next to someone who looks nearly identical to them, but it’s nothing new. They’ve been a generic character model before, and they’ll definitely do it again. Whatever.

It’s about two or three minutes before they hear a voice approaching down the hallway, cheerful and bright. “Howdy! Hey! How’s it goin’, everybody?” This must be the protagonist— this _Dr. Freeman_ or whatever. Finally, they can get started being a pain in the ass for the player. Wait— didn’t the scientists say he couldn’t _speak?_

“Hey,” Benrey starts as Freeman rounds the corner, and they get a good look at him. He’s a shorter guy, with a mess of dark curls and a well-kept beard. Huh. Okay.

Gordon Freeman stops in his tracks and blinks at Benrey, thick eyebrows furrowing a little as he tilts his head. “Huh? Huh? What’s— what’s wrong, sir?”

It’s then that Benrey starts to have a dawning, _fantastic_ realization. This Freeman guy— this player character— he _wasn’t_ supposed to speak, right? So why is he? And why does he sound so _familiar?_ They know exactly how to confirm or deny the working theory they have bouncing around in their head and they have to piss him off to get it to work.

“Can I see your— passport?” It’s the first idiot thing that comes to their mind.

Gordon Freeman, who _isn’t supposed to speak_ , looks both confused and borderline _offended_ by this line of questioning. He scoffs a laugh and brushes some hair away from his glasses. “My passport? Why do I need a— why do— what do you _mean_ a _passport_ , you mean like a company _ID?_ ” He checks the ‘pockets’ of his HEV suit in a fruitless manner.

Benrey’s face lights up in an imperceptible degree, eyes practically sparkling. It’s him! It’s the virus that’s been dropped into so many of the games they’ve wormed their way into! This guy never remembers them, but Benrey now recognizes the tone of voice and mannerisms. What luck! It’s only when they look up and see Gordon waiting impatiently for a response that they realize they’ve probably been silent a second too long. 

They step back and lean over to the dead-behind-the-eyes guard model next to them. “ _He doesn’t have his passport,_ ” they whisper, pretending to get a response and turning back to Gordon. “Yeah, he’s telling me you’re not allowed in here.”

“ _I don’t—_ ”

Benrey happily listens to the irritable virus say his next statement. Oh, this is going to be _so much fun_.


	2. End of the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon destroys something, and creates something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to martin for the proofread!

“Yeah, happy birthday, Tommy,” Gordon congratulates in a slightly faraway tone, indicating that he isn’t entirely in the moment. So much just happened, and he hasn’t even begun processing it in any capacity— he imagines it’ll take years before he’s able to fucking _function_ again. He raises a slice of the shittiest pizza on Earth as a ‘toast’ to his friend, uncertain smile set on his features.

It’s at this point that the chair underneath Gordon seems to fall away, and before he has time to shout or protest, he’s met with a seemingly endless void. His friends disappear in an instant, and he floats silently for a moment in utter exhaustion and defeat. Of course this would happen! Of course it wouldn’t be so easy— this nightmare will probably never _end_ at this rate. When his eyes focus a little closer, he thinks he sees something. It’s a few moments before he’s sure he sees something— no, some _one_.

That’s Doctor Coomer over there! Gordon tries fruitlessly to move towards the scientist, but finds he’s sort of stuck floating like this. “Mister Coomer!! Doc— Doctor— Doctor _Coomer!!_ ” he calls to him, figuring it’s the best he can do to just roll with it at this point.

Dr. Coomer turns slowly, before seeing Gordon and brightening just slightly. If the protagonist didn’t know better, he’d think Coomer looked...kind of miserable, all things considered. “Ah, hello, Gordon! Well. Here we are! You’ve beaten the video game.” His hands fold behind his back in a very proper manner, and he nods solemnly.

This catches Gordon off guard. Video game? He scoffs an incredulous laugh, staring at the scientist in front of him. He and Coomer _were_ fairly sure that none of what was happening was reality, but…a video game? It’s nearly laughable. In fact, he would actually laugh, was the look his friend was giving him not making his heart sink to his stomach.

“And now, I imagine…you’ll shut it down,” the doctor says with a note of finality, eyes shutting. His eyebrows are furrowed, and a heavy, longing sigh escapes him.

Gordon can’t help it, he has to speak up— even if it seems like Coomer is monologuing a bit here. “Shut _what_ down, Dr. Coomer, I— I don’t think— I don’t _understand_ , I don’t _get it_.”

When Coomer moves his sad gaze onto Gordon, it quickly changes to one of surprise; maybe even horror. “Gordon! You…” He points a finger at the so-called protagonist, and it’s clear now that he’s trembling a bit. “You’re not the player! You _aren’t_ the player!”

“The _player_? Come on, Coomer, can you just— would you just explain what’s going on here, so I can try—" It’s then that Gordon sees his hand. Where there was once a gun mounted, there is now a perfect image of a human hand; but something seems _off_. It’s almost like a hologram— entirely transparent and glowing a dull orange. A series of ones and zeroes (binary code, his panicked mind supplies) moves over his ‘skin’ in calm, calculated waves. To his dismay, checking the rest of the body reveals more of the same.

He looks desperately back up at Coomer. “But what— what does this _mean_? That— that I’m just—“

“A computer program, Gordon. Lines of code! Like the rest of us,” Coomer responds in a slow manner, clearly taken aback by the whole situation.

This is too much. Out of all of the stupid shit he’s gone through in the past few days or so, this is what is currently pushing Gordon over the edge. What about Black Mesa? What about the outside world? Dr. Coomer _did_ say there was nothing there, and he’s starting to understand that, but what the fuck was that restaurant? What about _Josh_? His hands begin to shake. This isn’t fucking fair; he was supposed to get the hell out of the facility and live to see another day. Things just _can’t_ be like this.

“No,” he laughs in spite of himself, “no, no, no, I’m a real person. A real person with a _son_. There’s no way none of that’s— I remember him. It can’t be— can’t be just a fucking _lie!!_ ” His hands are balled into fists now, and he barely notices the fact that the space around him has started to spark orange, or that Coomer looks even more concerned than before.

“Now, Gordon, I’m sure you’re upset but—"

“ _I’m fucking real!!_ ” Gordon bellows into the unforgiving darkness of the void, curling forward into himself. A swell of orange energy pulses inside of his chest and explodes all at once into the space around them, illuminating everything like a cheesy 90s laser light show. He can’t be fake. This has to be real. He wants to be _happy_. He wants to see Josh. There’s a harsh crackling sound as the ‘physicist’ continues screaming, holding himself tight, and in an even larger explosion the world goes completely and entirely dark.

When Gordon opens his eyes, he’s fairly sure he is well and truly dead this time. The thought and dawning realization is rather upsetting, actually. He squints against a rather bright light, and the notion that his glasses must have fallen off occurs to him. He sits up— he _sits up_? Gordon fumbles for his glasses, and once they’re situated on his face he takes stock of the current predicament he finds himself in. 

He’s in a bed. It’s kind of a shitty-looking king size mattress, and the comforter is all over the place, as though he’d been kicking violently in his sleep. So…was it all a dream? Slowly, Gordon gets himself up and out of bed, noting the replacement for the HEV suit being a t-shirt and sweatpants. The room around him is wholly unfamiliar, but it wouldn’t be the first time a nightmare or whatever had been this disorienting. Yep, must have been a dream. What a shitty one, he thinks bitterly, as he opens the door to the hallway just in time to be barreled over by a _huge_ golden retriever. 

“Sunkist!! Careful! Jeez, Mr. Freeman, are you okay?” A familiar voice calls out to him as Gordon stares at the ceiling, a barrage of wet kisses being administered by the dog.

“Tom...my? Whatthefuck…” Gordon exhales, sitting up and gently nudging the dog away from him. “Thanks, Sunkist, just— just chill a second— Tommy, what the _fuck_ is going on?” He’s not angry, just…upset and confused. This doesn’t make any sense.

“I-I’m not really sure _myself_ , Mr. Freeman…Dr. Coomer and Bubby are here too, though! I guess— I guess this is like a— a house for us?” Tommy mirrors Gordon’s look of confusion, tilting his head at him in a very similar manner to that of, well, a puppy.

“Coomer and Bubby are— _okay. Sure_.” Just opting to let the predominant feeling of tiredness take over, Gordon slumps his shoulders a bit before standing. It’s only now that he notices that there is exactly _no_ hand or the portion of his forearm where the gun was prior. That’s certainly something he’ll have to deal with now. Maybe? He doesn’t know how real this is.

“Harold, I am _telling you_ , this isn’t normal! Black Mesa should have loaded in by now!” Bubby is heard complaining from down the hall, and the two doctors approach Tommy and Gordon. “Oh, the man of the hour, huh? What did you do _this_ time, Gordon?”

“I have a theory!” Dr. Coomer cuts in, before Gordon and Bubby can inevitably get into it. “Gordon is not a _regular_ player character by any standard! In fact, I’d wager to say he isn’t a character at all! When the game ended, he must have created all of this in his dismay of realizing what a meaningless existence he lives!”

“It _is_ pretty meaningless,” Bubby agrees enthusiastically.

A long silence falls over the hallway, until finally, Gordon speaks up. “Wow. Wow, gee, thanks, Coomer, that’s great.” Sarcasm oozes from his words. 

“You wanted so badly to be real that you made something real for yourself! I think that’s _beautiful,_ ” Coomer grins, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.

Suddenly, the house nearly _rattles_ with what seems to be a startup noise of some kind. Tommy seems to recognize it instantly, and pales a little. “The fuck was that? Sounds like it came from downstairs…welp,” Gordon sighs, and with the energy of a man too tired to question anything anymore, heads down the unfamiliar staircase and into what appears to be a neat and tidy living space. 

The television is lit up a stark blue, the PlayStation logo displayed prominently in the center. 

“Oh, fuck no,” Gordon groans, and his dread is confirmed for him when a pair of red eyes framed by a mess of long black hair pokes up from behind the couch.

“Oh, _yooooooo_.”


	3. Sims 3: Pets Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read that title again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin once again w the proofreading.......love u

“Yo? _Yo?!_ That’s— that’s all you’re gonna say. Af— y’know, after you tried to _kill us?!_ ” Gordon’s arm flies over his head for emphasis, eyebrows furrowed deeply together. He can’t believe he’s staring at Benrey again, after everything that just happened. It’s like he’s right back at square one. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up. “Why the fuck are you here.” It isn’t a question.

“Benrey _was_ still a part of the game in the end, antagonist or not!” Coomer interjects, stepping behind Gordon and patting him on the shoulder. It does little to relieve his tension. “When you brought everyone self aware here, you had to have included our good friend Benrey!” Despite the cheery disposition, Coomer eyes Benrey with a degree of caution. Maybe he doesn’t fully trust them yet.

“Yea, _friend_. We can go back to— to being that now, to being friends since you’re done being all upset and trespassing,” Benrey mutters, leaning their chin on the back of the sofa. Their dark hair fluffs around their face, making them look like a silly caricature. 

“Tres— I wasn’t _trespassing_ , I—” Gordon relents with a frustrated sigh, realizing that it’s absolutely pointless to argue with Benrey. They make so little sense even without the irritating one-sided banter. “Look it’s _fine_ that you’re here, I just need you to, you know, not be hostile or any shit. Okay?”

“Uh, whatever, was part of the game anyway.” Benrey waves him off, turning around to face the PlayStation menu screen and navigating to a game title. The scientists and Sunkist, having gotten so unfortunately used to the way this conversation is headed, have taken to exploring the rest of the house, so Gordon is stuck watching in dismay as the title screen fades in.

“ _Sims 3: Pets Edition?_ ” Gordon reads aloud, coming around to the sofa’s arm and taking a defeated seat on it. Is this really what shit has come to? Everything’s kind of a blur. At least it’s a blur he’s having an easier time following!

Benrey uncurls, stretching unnaturally long legs and getting comfortable. They start navigating the menus. “S’a really good game, yea. You makin’— makin’ fun of me for liking Sims 3– pets?” Their awkward, mumbled way of speaking is still something Gordon is getting used to.

“No, I just...I don’t think I’ve ever seen this game.” Reality is sinking in, and Gordon just sort of accepts it out of exhaustion.

“Y’gotta...you have to be so skilled to play this one, ok, you have to have a— gotta have a _mechanical brain_ ,” Benrey drones, blowing some of their wild dark hair from their eyes afterward. Gordon vaguely realizes this is the first time he’s ever seen their hair, and damn— it’s practically down to their ass, it looks like. How the hell did that all fit in the helmet? Probably a stupid question, Gordon tells himself, considering the way they’d looked during what he realizes only _now_ was a fucking boss fight.

The protagonist can’t help but crack a grin and laugh lightly. “A m— _mechanical brain?_ Dude, what the fuck are you talking about,” he snickers, actually sitting on the couch now and getting a little more comfortable.

“Yup.” No elaboration. Typical. Benrey plays the game in silence a while, before speaking up again. “You really ok with this? Sittin’ by me and shit? Uhh. After all that?”

The clarity of this catches Gordon off guard. “Huh? I mean,”

“Where’s your fake son, huh?”

Gordon’s heart drops to his feet, and anger rushes to his chest. How could they— they _know_ , don’t they? They just said fake. He stands, gritting his teeth. “Shut the fuck up, okay,” he spits, and storms out of the room.

The now ex-physicist takes this time to calm himself down by touring the rest of the house. A kitchen, dining room, and living space on the first floor, and four bedrooms upstairs— one probably to be shared by Coomer and Bubby. All in all it’s a pretty nice place, and he’s a bit impressed with his imagination...or whatever it was about him, that created all of this. He could get used to living here, probably, provided a few...changes were made.

This thought causes Benrey’s remark about Josh to cross his mind again. When he really thinks about it, there were a lot of times during Black Mesa that Josh seemed to be his goal of sorts. He just wanted to get out to see his son. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he visualizes his sweet little smile, the way he’d giggle when Gordon joked around with him...was that really all a lie? Something to make his ‘character’ more interesting?

Gordon sits in the middle of the stairs, removes his glasses, and lets a few sobs shake his frame as he presses the only palm he has left to his eye.

Hearing the waterworks, Bubby sighs heavily and approaches Gordon, leaning on the banister at the bottom of the stairs and gazing at him with fake disdain. “Crying, hmm? What for,” he scoffs. This is not concern, he swears!

Gordon sighs shakily, breath hitching on the inhale. “It’s— it’s my son, Josh. He...he isn’t real.” Admitting it out loud causes another choked sob.

“You’re not _that_ stupid, are you? Didn’t you make this whole damn building by yourself?” Bubby quirks a brow and sneers, placing his fists on his hips matter-of-factly.

“I mean...I did? What does that...have to…” Gordon looks up through puffy eyelids to see Bubby’s smug ‘ _now you get it, jackass_ ’ expression. “You think I could bring him here— m-m-make— make him— make him _real_?”

“Of _course_ you can do that, Gordon. This is a video game, after all— and you’ve fucked with the code enough already to do _this_.” Bubby rolls his eyes and climbs up to sit next to his friend on the stairs, patting him on the shoulder. “Now stop crying, it’s _embarrassing_.” Despite the harsh nature of this statement, a soft smile is threatening at his lips.

Gordon nods, a wobbly smile on his face. “I...thanks, Bubby. I’ll...have to figure it out, I guess.”

“Well, you’ve got forever. Hurry it up,” Bubby smiles, patting him again and heading the rest of the way up the stairs. 

Alone again, Gordon steels himself and takes a deep breath. He has no idea how to go about this, but the promise he’ll see Josh again at all is enough for him right now. Maybe living here will be a bit difficult because of the chaotic nature of his housemates, but...they’re also his friends. There’s just one relationship he really has to _work_ on, but that can wait. Right now, he needs to focus...maybe if he just thinks hard enough about his son, really _pictures_ him and—

“Stair breach detected, ohhh no, what the heck,”

“ _Benrey,_ ” Gordon grinds out, glowering at them as they loom over him, “I’m trying to concentrate here. Can you just— just _go away_ a second?”

“On what?”

“On bringing my _fake son_ here with us.” There’s venom in this response.

“Oh, Josh? I can do that.” The same smile as always is painted on their face. “S’why I asked.”

“What? Well, then, why— whatever, just...if you think you can do it _right_ , go ahead, I guess.” Still a bit burned from the earlier encounter, Gordon sighs sharply. 

“Mm, just gimme a while.” With that, Benrey disappears around the corner. Huh. Just like that? Gordon huffs and opts to head to his new room, plopping onto the bed and rubbing the heel of his hand into his forehead. Today has been so much. It isn’t long before he passes out entirely, sprawled out on the comforter. 

Hours later, Gordon wakes from his nap to hear the sounds of squeaked, happy shouts emanating from somewhere in the house. Oh, that must be Josh having some fun, that’s all. _Wait, Josh?!_ He listens closer to the voice...that’s him! That’s his baby, that’s Josh! He rushes down the stairs and into the living area, feverishly glancing around the room before his eyes land on—

“Daddy!! Hi! My new frien’ Beny is— is payin’ wi’ me— uh, Sims Free!”

That’s his son alright, and he’s sitting curled up next to Benrey on the couch, watching them command a Sim to put out water for the virtual dog on screen.

“Yea, small dude’s gotta mechanical brain.”


	4. Joshua

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh is getting used to having a way bigger family, and Gordon is getting used to sharing his son with an unlikely co-parent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, big ty to martin my beloved for editing! <3

“And _that_ is how you create a potion that gets rid of the nasty taste you experience when combining toothpaste and orange juice.” Sliding the fizzing concoction across the counter, Darnold rests his elbows on the marble surface and tilts his head at Joshua, who claps his hands together enthusiastically.

“Donald potion!! Thank you!” Joshua messily downs the entire thing, spilling some onto the front of his pajamas. The three-year-old has been having a whale of a time getting to know his new family members, and most mornings start in a similar fashion to this. ‘Donald potions’, as Josh has dubbed them due to a lack of pronunciation skills, are one of his favorite parts of the day.

It’s been about two weeks since the house was materialized from the pure misery of its creator, and things have been running...as smooth as one would expect when combining all of the personalities involved into one household. Benrey might even liken it to the dynamics one would find when creating a family in The Sims. They round the corner into the kitchen and pocket their PSP, taking a seat on the stool next to Josh.

“Hey, Josh.”

“Beny!” Another pronunciation error that everyone has deemed adorable. “Look!” He thrusts the now-empty cup at Benrey, shaking it a little in an excited hand. “No more orange toothpaste!”

“That’s not— Joshua, the point is the orange juice and toothpaste flavor combination…” Darnold, not quite accustomed to the way a child would interpret his delicate art of potion-making, places gloved hands on his hips and laughs a little in spite of the misunderstanding.

“Bro, I can’t believe you got rid of the orange toothpaste. Sick,” Benrey responds, reaching over to ruffle the toddler’s hair in an affectionate manner.

When Tommy wanders into the kitchen to ask Darnold a question about something or other, their departure leaves Benrey alone with the kid. It’s a bit strange, really, how they view him; they aren’t sure how a parent should feel about their child, but they guess it might be close to that. Gordon would _hate it_ if they even so much as implied that, though, so they keep their mouth shut about it. Besides the putting him to bed sometimes, playing video games together, teaching him _very_ basic manners on occasion...the raising of Joshua has become a sort of group effort for the household, but no one would deny Benrey’s acute involvement.

“Tried wake daddy up...too sleepy,” Josh muses, having turned the cup over on the counter and started to smack the bottom mercilessly.

“Oh yeah? Whatta...whatta lazy guy, just a lazy boy.” Benrey gingerly rescues Josh from the danger of breaking the cup, and the cup from Josh’s torment. 

This earns a short-lived pout, but the toddler _always_ smiles back at Benrey when he sees their perma-goofy expression. “Lazy guy daddy!” he concurs, wiggling a little and attempting to free himself from the stool he’s on.

“ _Whoa_ , friend, hold on,” Benrey says hurriedly, standing and moving over to help him down safely, “you’re small, bro, you’re _small_.”

Josh jumps up and down a few times, _slamming_ his feet into the tiled floor. He laughs in a giddy manner, tearing out of the kitchen and down the hall while chanting ‘ _small Josh, tall Beny_ ’ over and over. Benrey watches after him in a fond manner, amusing themself with the thought that they know _exactly_ where the loud gene came from.

—

“Ride Sunkist?” is the simple question Josh asks, staring up at Tommy with wide, curious eyes. He’s in the middle of rubbing the enormous dog’s tummy, which is one of his favorite pastimes.

Tommy blinks at Joshua, crouching down to be on his level. “I guess you could, yeah! I never— I haven’t tried it myself, but uhh! I’m too big, I think! She can handle it, though— she’s— she’s perfect, she’s immortal!” Lifting Josh to his height by his armpits, Tommy grins at his dog. “Sunkist, could— can you give Joshie a ride?”

As though she understands human languages, Sunkist stands up and barks once, tail wagging excitedly. Taking this as a ‘yes’, Tommy carefully sets Joshua onto her back. “Just— just hold right onto— right here, okay? Be careful and don’t pull her hair,” he instructs, patting Josh’s head a little before Sunkist starts walking around the room, a bit slower than her usual pace— it’s as if she’s being conscious and mindful of the child on her back.

“Yiss!! _Cowboy!_ ” Joshua shouts triumphantly, petting Sunkist with a free hand.

—

“Again, again!” Joshua chants, clapping his hands together and wiggling around like the energy inside of him is trying to break free.

“You heard the gentleman, Bubby!” Doctor Coomer exclaims from his end of the backyard, hefting a good-sized log onto his shoulder and grinning at his husband across the way. After receiving the go-ahead nod, he hauls back and throws the log a good thirty feet into the air, laughing all the while.

Much to Joshua’s amazement (for the tenth time this evening), Dr. Bubby conjures literal _fire_ from his fingertips, using it to make the log in question burst into what almost resembles a firework. The toddler squeals in delight. “Grampa fire, grampa fire!”

“That’s the last one, my everything is _killing me_ ,” Bubby complains, stepping over to where Joshua is seated on one of his blankets that they’ve brought outside. He lifts the boy against his hip in a manner that is surprisingly gentle and careful, and turns to wait for Dr. Coomer. “Your dad is probably _so worried_ about you, even though we _promised_ you’d be just fine. And look at you. Exactly that.” He pokes the little boy’s nose. He’d never admit it, but he’s quite fond of Joshua.

“Gordon _is_ the king of worrying, isn’t he,” Coomer agrees fondly, picking up the blanket and heading inside with Bubby and his grandson.

—

“Where did you _get_ this crab, Josh?” Gordon questions, squishing the round plush toy in his hands as he sits on the edge of his son’s bed. It seems like toys for Joshua have just been _appearing_ , as of late. He guesses that makes enough sense as anything is fucking going to around here.

“Beny!”

Of course. Gordon fights a scowl from his features and just nods, setting it down at the end of the bed. The connection that Benrey has with his son is...it’s not bad, by any means, the virus has never done anything to harm him, but...it’s _Benrey_ , and Gordon has his own set of hangups because of that. “Alright, kiddo, bedtime. You had a long day, bud,” he smiles softly, tucking Joshua into his blankets and looking at his bundled face like he’s the _whole world…_

Which comes crashing down as the door opens behind him, and _of fucking course_ , Benrey enters. “Oh man, aw man, sorry, I was just gonna come say goodnight.”

“Come say it then!” Gordon grins. He’d never pick a fight with Benrey in front of Josh, he isn’t a shit parent, but this _has_ irritated him. Bedtime is one of the only times he gets _alone_ with his son nowadays.

Benrey lopes across the room to Josh’s bedside, ruffling his hair and smiling that weird-ass, indifferent smile that Gordon wants to see change, just _once._ “Night, gamer man.”

“Night, Beny!”

With a slow movement, Benrey reaches across Gordon’s lap to push down on the plush crab, squeezing it a little. “ _Behave yourself,_ ” they fake-whisper, earning a highly-amused giggle from Joshua.

“B— behave— _what?_ ” Before Gordon can ask any further questions, they’re already on their way out of the room. He finishes up putting his son to bed, and closes the door softly on the way out. Benrey is still in the hall when he exits. “The hell was that about? _Behave yourself?_ Dude, it’s a _toy_. How could—”

The attention of both viruses is pulled quite suddenly to a sound coming from within Joshua’s bedroom. It sounds like…singing? It’s a tone, pure and clear, that elevates in pitch for just a moment before cutting off abruptly. Gordon looks down in confusion to watch as a few bright red and green orbs escape from under his son’s door. “What the _fuck…_ ”

“Oh, dude. Lime to red, time for bed.”


	5. Surface Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon makes a mistake and sees something he thought he wanted to see...turns out he didn't want to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty to martin for editing!!

Gordon sets his fork down with the metered carefulness of someone who is about to disarm a bomb. It’s dinner time, and he’s had a hard time paying attention to his meal— Benrey and his son have been playing with their own food for the duration, much to his annoyance. He isn’t sure what’s irritating him more: the poor manners, or the fact that they look so _right_ as a parent-child duo over there. His hand, under the table and rested on his thigh, curls into a fist a few times as he wrestles with his next move. 

“Josh, don’t play with your food— please? Okay? And— and Benrey, will you just— just leave him alone a minute? He’s gotta eat,” he scolds, dark eyebrows lowering behind his glasses.

Benrey’s head shoots up from where they’re making a tiny sculpture out of mashed potatoes, and they instantly zero in on an opportunity. “Why don’t’cha, uhh…mind your own business there, huh? Friend?” Their pupils dilate, and they await his response.

Gordon blinks at them, eyes widening a bit and lips pursed into a thin, irritated line. It’s a moment before he says anything. “What Josh is doing is my business, thanks, he’s— he’s my _son_.”

“Oh yeah? Well— well he’s gonna _eat_ , we just gotta _arrange_ it first,” Benrey states, as though this were obvious all along.

“ _Arrange_ — arrange _what_? It’s food, it— it’s his dinner, he’s gotta eat it.”

“Arrange the _food_. Duh.”

An irritated sigh, followed by a louder response. “Look, I’m just trying to make sure my kid—”

“Now Gordon, let’s not raise our voices in front of our young—” Coomer starts.

“ _Benrey is **not** Josh’s dad!!_” It’s sudden, explosive, and accompanied by Gordon standing up from the table and slamming his hand down onto its surface. No one implied that, no one even came close to saying it, but...everything bottled up inside of his head just manifests itself in a shout.

Benrey begins experiencing a strange feeling at that moment— one they’re not sure they fully understand. It’s almost like their chest burns; but what they’re eating isn’t spicy...they simply gaze at Gordon, unblinking, entirely unaware that something unusual is happening because of all this.

_Gordon_ definitely notices it. He notices the way their eyes now appear sunken and tired, red hue having lost some of its luster. He picks up on the way they physically seem to deflate, thin shoulders drooping at their sides. Their eyebrows have pulled together in a way that makes them look older— sadder. Most of all, Gordon realizes that Benrey’s signature grin has been replaced with a frown that houses a deep disappointment.

Everyone at the table (except Dr. Coomer, who had the sense to scoop his grandson into his arms and remove him from the situation) has been silent for a few moments, looking between Gordon and Benrey in anticipation of what they’ll do next. 

Unable to take this anymore— unable to _see Benrey look at him like that,_ Gordon shoves his chair out behind him and storms away from the table, making a beeline for the back door and escaping the situation. He seats himself on the steps of the back porch, head dropping into his hand. It feels like the world around him is swimming, and he can’t get a grip on anything concrete. What the fuck just _happened_ back there? 

It must have been a trick of the light, something fucked up with the ‘programming’ or whatever; there is _no goddamn way_ he just saw Benrey looking as though they were about to cry. 

Gordon feels like an asshole for a few separate reasons. He shouted angrily in front of his son, which is something that he’s been actively trying to _never_ do in Josh’s presence. The nasty, bitter part of his brain wants to blame Benrey for it, for pushing him over the edge in such a way that he’d break his streak, but his conscience points out that it’s entirely unfair to do so. He allowed himself to get so wound up that the whiplash from the breaking point was pretty severe, and he has to deal with that.

Benrey, still seated at the table, is deaf to any questions about their wellbeing from Darnold and Tommy, the remaining family members who stuck around after Bubby left to assist Coomer in keeping Josh in the dark. They stare into the middle distance, wondering why in the world they feel so wholly _awful_ right now. This has never happened before. Usually, when Gordon yells at them or becomes irritated with them, it _delights_ Benrey and nothing more. It’s been that way for _years_ , throughout every game they’ve experienced together. 

Why is it that now of all times, in a scenario where they’re allowed to continue being with the other virus, they feel as though they’re crumbling to pieces?

“...go and talk to Mister Freeman, maybe that would calm— clear stuff up.” Tommy’s suggestion fades in from their right, and Benrey actually addresses him by nodding and standing in a wobbly manner. Both Tommy and Darnold reach out to steady them, holding onto a shoulder each. “Are you gonna be— gonna— gonna be alright, Benrey?”

“Benrey, we’re just trying to help. The way you’re acting is...pretty concerning,” Darnold echoes Tommy’s sentiment, patting them lightly.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, it’s just, uhh, it’s just Feetman, just yellin’ at me like normal— normal times, it’s fine.” The way they drone this in a hurried fashion does nothing to reinforce their claim. Benrey pulls away from them entirely, feet carrying them to the back door. Gordon absolutely doesn’t want to see them right now, but they’re just gonna have to follow him.

The door shuts quietly behind them as they stand on the porch, the false sunset casting the back of Gordon’s form in shadow. It filters through his hair like fire, and they think they’re about to be set alight before the other virus’ voice breaks the silence between them.

“S’that you, Benrey?” Gordon sounds a bit choked. He doesn’t turn around to face the house.

“Yea.”

Gordon sighs, slow and ragged. “We should probably talk about this shit, huh.”

“If you wanna.”

“Alright, alright— uhh...come sit down, I guess.”

Still in a half-trance, Benrey crosses the porch and sits down next to Gordon, making sure there’s an appropriate amount of space between them. They don’t want to push it right now. Gordon appears to take a moment to collect himself, gently pulling his hair down from its usual ponytail, before glancing over at his companion with tired, red-rimmed eyes.

“Look, I’m...sorry for being a jackass in there. I was— I’ll admit it, I was way out of line,” he exhales, and judging by the way he wrinkles his brow, this is hard for him to say. “It’s so _stupid_ , because no one even— I mean no one said _shit_ about you being— I just— christ, man. I feel like a total loser.”

“‘Cuz you are one,” Benrey replies without missing a beat, and it would’ve raised Gordon’s hackles if they hadn’t sounded so fond just now. “S’okay. I don’t care that much.”

“But you _did_ , right? I mean you— you _frowned_ , dude, I’ve _never_ seen you frown. Not once! I guess I’m just...I think I’m still having a hard time figuring out…” Gordon seems to be struggling to find the right words. He gestures vaguely with his hand as he continues. “This whole _thing_ , this whole— _not being real_ thing. I think I’m still coming to terms with it. I lived _so much_ of my life thinking that it was for some kinda reason, only to...find out I’m some kinda _computer program?_ It’s just…” At a loss, he throws his hand towards nothing, fingers splayed in a frustrated manner.

“It’s real to you, right?”

The clear, coherent way Benrey asks this throws Gordon off a little. They’re usually mumbling and saying nonsense, so he hesitates a moment. “Y...eah?”

“Then it’s real.” Benrey blinks at him, expressionless now, tilting their head a little. Their veritable mane of hair follows the movement, falling over their shoulder in small waves. When Gordon doesn’t respond, they look away and continue speaking, playing with their fingers a bit. “I think that’s what’s— what matters. Just gotta be real to you. Sorry for— if I was too friendly with Josh.”

Was that an _apology?_ “No, you’re— you’re _allowed_ to take care of Josh. I...I appreciate the help, really. It’s just...you and I...we don’t have the best— the best _history_. Yanno?” Gordon grimaces at Benrey, who keeps their eyes on the grass in front of them.

“I get’cha,” they nod, “we gotta work on it.”

This is easily the most productive conversation with Benrey that Gordon’s ever had. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s.” With that, he stands and extends his hand to them. “Truce?”

Benrey’s eyes light up when they look up at Gordon, and the familiar smile finds its way back onto their features as if all is right with the world again. They grab his hand, and allow him to help them stand up towering over him.

“Yea, okay. Truce, ugly.”


End file.
